


The Art of Passive-Aggressive Revenge Baking

by CinnaAtHeart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: A battle of wits with baking, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Baking, Darcy and Loki love to rib each other, Darcy is a little ridiculous in this, Darcyland Christmas Exchange, F/M, Sass, did i mention the sass, dlss2015, pre-Darcy Lewis/Loki - Freeform, so i guess you could call this Crack, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnaAtHeart/pseuds/CinnaAtHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts off with an accident. Then Loki retaliates with the gingernuts, and Darcy can take that as nothing more than an open declaration for war.<br/>It just goes downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Passive-Aggressive Revenge Baking

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out WAY longer than I planned it to be.  
> written for Ohtaozii, on tumblr for the Darcyland Secret Santa 2015.

Darcy stares down at the carefully wrapped cake, feeling uncharacteristically unsure of herself. She fiddles with an errant piece of clingwrap nervously, straining her ears to listen for any movement on the other side of the door.

(She’s been waiting for maybe a minute now.)

She sighs when she still hears nothing, and raises her hand to knock again, when the door swings open.

Darcy hides a pout. _Damn_ ; she’d hoped Thor would answer.

“Yes?” Loki (the worse half of the brothers that live next door) demands. He’s dressed as impeccably as always; like he’s just stepped out of the office, instead of lazing around in his apartment on a Friday night.

“Hey there neighbour!” Darcy gives him what she hopes is a winning smile, but the way it stretches her face makes it feel more like a grimace. His eyes flash in disdain and _yep, regretting this already_ , “Is Thor around?”

Darcy never thought a person’s face could actually turn arctic until Loki moved in next door. “He’s out.”

She blows out slowly through her nose. She can _do_ this. “Kay. Well. Did you want brownies? I made brownie, but I forgot Jane and I are going away for the week, and we’re flying to Australia and we don’t want to take food with us, so we can’t really eat it, and it’d be a tragedy to let good food go to waste, so I thought I’d share the love.”

He blinks at her, momentarily surprised. His eyes flick down from the carefully wrapped plate and back to her and for the briefest of moments the man doesn’t look hostile. Darcy thrusts the plate out to distract herself from his infuriatingly shiny eyes. The haughty look returns, and he plucks the plate from her hands. His fingers are long and thin, like spiders legs.

“I’m sure _Thor_ will appreciate them,” he tells her coldly, and then the door is slamming in her face and Darcy is left blinking at the brass _304_ , a mix of bewilderment and wild, unbridled rage running through her veins.

“That bloody-” she raps sharply on the door, “ _Hey_ , _Loki_! That plate better be clean when you return it!’

She stomps away- ten steps to the right to their apartment.

_Christ_ , but the bastard hadn’t even said ‘thank-you’.

\--

Darcy’s not sure _what_ she expected when she told Loki to return the plate, but is sure as hell wasn’t _this_.

She stares down at the plate of cookies, perplexed.

“Uh- hi?”

Loki is staring at her. The grip on her plate is white knuckled- she half expects it to break in two. “How was your trip?” he asks tersely, sounding for all the world like he doesn’t give 2 hoots about her answer. (He hasn’t even said hello to her.)

Darcy lets out a puff of air, surprised. That is about the last thing she expected to come out of his mouth. She swallows back her misgivings, “The trip was good. Hot- uh- but good. We fought a koala; did you know they get chlamydia?”

His eyes glance off to the side. “The more you know,” he says dryly. Darcy nods slowly- the rage had died down over the twenty hour flight, leaving in its place confusion and mild irritation. She looks down pointedly at her plate.

“Is that mine?”

He nods tightly, pushing the cookies at her, “I made cookies; forgot Thor doesn’t like ginger.”

She bites her lip, determined not to smirk. Something tells her he didn’t forget at all.

“Thank-you,” she says to him, and takes the plate out of his hands. He nods again. Clears his throat and pivots on his foot and leaves. Darcy watches the door close behind him- just a step down from a slam.

She fingers at the clingwrap as she returns to the living room. Jane glances up from her computer. There are three pens sticking out of her ponytail, and another twisted between the fingers of her right hand.

“Who was that?”

Darcy blinks at her a moment before moving to the kitchen. She feels off-kilter about the whole encounter, and maybe a little annoyed.

“That,” she says, and puts the plate down on the crowded kitchen counter with a little more force than is truly necessary, “was Loki.”

“Thor’s brother?”

“Do you know any other Loki’s?”

Jane makes a soft sound of annoyance from the other room, “He wasn’t rude, was he? Thor says he’s been going through a lot lately, but honestly I suspect he’s always been an asshole.”

Darcy frowns down at the cookies, “No- he was actually halfway to civil.”

“Weird.”

“Very. He even asked how our trip was.” She peels back the plastic and picks up a cookie. It smells delicious- like her nan’s kitchen at Christmas. “He made us cookies.”

Jane materialises beside her. Darcy barely jumps- she’s used to the woman’s silence by now. “Cookies?”

“Gingernut. Here-” she holds one up and it’s snatched from her hand. There’s a loud crunch from behind her, then a soft sound of pleasure.

“Holy shit,” Jane says profoundly. “Holy _shit_.”

Darcy laughs and turns around. “That good, are they?”

“So good.” Jane’s hand is already sneaking over to grab another one. Darcy laughs again and takes a tentative nibble from her own cookie.

_Oh_.

Her eyes flutter closed and- _God_ \- but she’s back in her nana’s kitchen, biting down on a gingernut just this side of too hot, a glass of milk on her left and her nana kneading dough on her right, humming along to the songs on her ancient record player.

_Christ_ , but it’s like he _stole_ her nana’s recipe. She frowns down at the good number of cookies Loki gave them; that is just _unfair._ She’s irrationally struck by the thought that he’s doing this deliberately, just to prove that he’s better than her.

The bastard.

Darcy finds herself growing inexplicably angry. This is _just_ _not cool_. No way can she allow that utterly _insufferable_ excuse for a neighbour win this illogical war her mind has struck up. No way.

“This means war, Loki Odinson,” she utters angrily and stalks out of the kitchen, leaving the plate of disgustingly good gingernuts to Jane and her insatiable sweet tooth.

(But not before grabbing a good handful and a glass of milk to keep her company.)

\--

Darcy is waiting.

It’s eight in the morning, and Darcy is waiting to hear the click and thump of heavy shoes in the corridor outside.

It’s stupid. She knows it is. But this is now a war- for all intent and purposes- and Darcy is nothing if not a competitive little shit.

_There_ – the sound 304’s door closing. She squints through her peephole to make sure it’s Thor who’s leaving, before returning to the kitchen to inspect the box of fruit tartlets. They’re obscenely beautiful things, and the only reason she’s managed to keep them from Jane has been by working well into the night while the other woman was engrossed in her work and hiding them beneath a too-old head of cabbage in the veggie drawer.

She grins down at them in pleasure. Darcy may be no culinary genius, but she can step up to the plate when she needs to.

She waits another ten minutes- to make sure it doesn’t seem like a planned attack- before slipping out and stalking over to the Odinson’s apartment. She gives the painted door three good, hard raps and waits.

Darcy knows Loki’s inside. She may or may not have been spying on him for the last week, documenting his movements so she can plan the perfect time to make her move (like a fucking _loser_ ). So she knows he’s still at home- knows that he only leaves the place at odd hours, but never before ten. Darcy’s not entirely sure _what_ he actually does, and honestly she doesn’t much care, so long as it works in her favour this morning.

The wait stretches on. Darcy knocks again, and finally hears the distant sound of a frustrated growl. “Fucking hell, Thor! You have keys! Use them, for-”

The door swings open violently and Loki breaks off. The furious expression eases only slightly.

Darcy smiles at him benignly.

“It’s eight in the morning.” He tells her, voice flat and emotionless.

“Eight fifteen, actually-”

“It’s eight fifteen in the morning. What are you doing here?”

Darcy continues smiling- she’s pretty certain she’s got this impassive smile downpat (she’s used it enough on the bigwigs responsible for Jane’s funding). “Whatever do you mean? This is the time when normal people go about their business.” Her eyes glance down to his dark sweatpants and soft-looking shirt. It’s the most casual thing she’s ever seen him wear, and she can’t help but admire the lean muscles of his arms- it really is _such_ a shame that he’s such a prick.

His eyes narrow dangerously, “Can I help you, Miss Lewis?”

Darcy tries her very best not to look smug as she holds out the box of tartlets. Now that she’s gotten over her outrage, she can admit that it’s actually quite satisfying to stir him up. “A work colleague of ours sent these as a thank-you, but Jane hates fruit tarts-” an outright lie, “- and I don’t have the biggest sweet tooth. We hoped we could send them to a good home.”

He takes the box from her; far less of a snatch this time, Darcy notes with approval. He opens it carefully, the only expression on his face now a raised eyebrow. “More baked goods?”

“More baked goods. I though you and Thor would appreciate them more than Mrs Munroe.”

“Oh?”

Darcy nods sagely, “Oh yeah. She’s allergic to fruit, the poor woman.”

“Really.”

“Mhm. Breaks out into hives and everything.”

“Right,” he says flatly. “Well, I’ll be sure to pass them onto Thor when he gets home.”

Darcy smiles at him beatifically, even as he’s moving away and slamming the door shut in her face again.

“Loki- one; Darcy- two,” she mutters, and scuttles back to her apartment.

\--

Darcy’s victory lasts a paltry forty-seven hours.

She stares dully at the man on the other side of the door. Even through the peephole, she can make out the fixed look of boredom on his face, and she bares her teeth at him, safe behind her door.

“Bastard,” she mouths at him, then takes a deep breath to steady herself and swings open the door, beaming widely.

“Loki! What can I do for you?” Darcy would be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of how sickly sweet she can make her voice. The bored look slides from his face, to be replaced by a smile so wide and cold it sends shivers down her spine. She’s struck by how pretty he is- manic glint in his eyes or not.

“Good morning, Miss Lewis-”

“Oh, Darcy is fine.”

If anything, the smile grows colder, eyes glittering in a way that could never be mistaken for friendly, “Of course. _Darcy_. I hope I’m not intruding.” His eyes slide down to her pyjama pants and baggy sweater ensemble momentarily before returning to her face. Darcy’s almost impressed that he didn’t linger on her breasts like many men would.

“Course not. I’ve been up for hours.”

(Mostly true. It’s just that she’d not actually bothered to get out of bed until half an hour ago.)

“Good to know.” He smirks at her, and wiggles a finger in the direction of her sweater, “It’s a bit too early for Christmas, don’t you think.”

She shrugs at him, hoping it doesn’t come across as too defensive, “It’s been cold this morning. No time like the present for a spot of Christmas cheer. “

“It’s mid-November.”

“So?’

Loki breathes out long and slow, staring at her all the while. He looks like he wants to say something caustic, but his holding his tongue. “To each their own,” he manages eventually. She beams at him.

“Indeed.”

An awkward silence settles down between them, and Darcy is left wondering why he’s here. His hands are empty, so hitting back with more baked goods is off the table. Loki clears his throat, glancing off to the side in what one would assume would be embarrassment, but Darcy knows better. He’s up to something.

“I require your assistance.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. Loki is staring levelly at her, not a trace of antagonism on his handsome face. Her mouth goes suddenly dry. “Oh?”

He nods and- oh. Yep, there it is- the subtle twitch of his lips, as though he’s fighting a smirk. _Never mind, then_. “I’m trying to come up with a new cupcake recipe, but I need a second opinion before I decide on the final recipe. Would you care to join me?”

And there she was thinking maybe the war was over. Silly Darcy.

She smiles at him stiffly, “ _Sure_. I’d love to.”

Loki grins, and Darcy is ninety percent certain there is nothing friendly about the creases around his eyes. “Well, whenever you’re… ready, feel free to pop around.”

Darcy’s eyes narrow at his rather pointed jab at her state of ‘undress’. “I’d be _delighted_ ,” she tells him, delivering the final word as though remarking about something distasteful on the sole of her shoe. “Just give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” he drawls and wanders away. Darcy closes her door with far more violence than is necessary and stalks into the living room. Jane is currently trying to wipe a long dribble of milk out of her shirt.

“Loki again?”

“Yes,” Darcy fumes. “He want me to try his _cupcakes_.”

Jane’s eyebrows rise to comically high levels. “Cupcakes? You’re sure that’s not a euphemism for something else?”

“Well if it is,” she calls out, passing through the threshold to her bedroom, “I’ll be sure to lace their chocolate gateau with salt _.”_

Jane snorts.

“Text me in twenty minutes to make sure I’m not dead.”

“Kay.”

\--

The cupcakes aren’t a euphemism.

They’re also delicious. Darcy takes great joy in picking at every little flaw she can find, and Loki takes her criticisms with all the grace of a swan on land.

\--

“Darcy, don’t you think this is kind of getting out of hand?”

Darcy barely spares Jane a second glance, too intent on ensuring the dough is the exact right thickness. Jane huffs.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong- the sudden influx of baked goods is pretty great. But don’t you think this… competition of yours is kind of over the top?”

“All’s fair in love and passive-aggressive warfare, Jane.”

The other woman makes a soft noise of discontent at the back of her throat. “Is that what this is?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying Darcy, exchanging baking products is a _little_ unconventional for two people who supposedly hate each other.”

“What would you rather I do? Bang on the walls and sneak glitter bombs through their letterbox?”

“Umm.”

Darcy puts down her rolling pin and turns around. “Need I remind you that Loki started this? If he’d not turned up with those gingernuts, then I wouldn’t have been forced to retaliate with those fruit tartlets!”

“Wait, fruit tartlets-”

“It’s his fault, Jane! The gingernuts were a clear challenge, and I refuse to lose to some- some pointy-faced Draco Malfoy wannabe!”

Jane stares at her for a long moment. The corner of her lips are twitching. “I don’t recall a passive-aggressive baking scene in Harry Potter.”

“Well, that’s because it was in Rowling’s deleted scenes.”

She does laugh then, though it dies quickly. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Darcy levels her with the side-eye. “Jane, anything that _could_ constitute as getting hurt would occur in a kitchen, with lots of sharp and heavy things within easy reach.”

Jane hums and picks at the hem of her shirt. “That’s not the kind of hurt I’m talking about.”

Darcy doesn’t reply. There’s nothing she can say that hasn’t already been said. At some point between the cupcakes and now, their shared contempt of each other has simmered down to mutual joy of antagonising and trash talking the other, and it’s been raising the brows of both Thor and Jane.

“You’d better be at least _saving_ some of that for us this time,” she huffs.

“Mhmm.”

Jane sighs. “Right. Well, I’m leaving. Have your bitchy fun. Don’t have sex on the counter please.”

Darcy casually flips her the bird, not bothering to look up and see her off.

The light slamming of the front door sounds very much like a judgement.

\--

The Odinson apartment door opens far too quickly for Darcy’s liking. If Darcy were a betting gal, she’d say he’s been waiting for her to make the next move.

“Loki, _hi_ ,” she greets him with a bright and vapid voice.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Lewis.”

“ _Darcy_.”

He blinks at her slowly; Darcy’s reminded of a cat, languid and disdainful. “Had a good weekend so far?”

“It’s been productive.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything else. Darcy decides to cut to the chase.

“So I started making a gingerbread house, but Jane ditched me.”

(A bald-faced lie.)

An eyebrow quirks. “I don’t see how this relates to me.”

Darcy shrugs and hopes the expression on her face comes off as sincere. “Well, it’s kind of a two-man job, and I thought, hey, Loki likes to bake. Why not recruit him? Mrs Munroe’s hands are too shaky to help.”

Darcy’s not sure if it’s just her imagination, but his smile seems far less glacial than usual. “And of course, we wouldn’t want to disturb her Sunday afternoon.”

She shakes her head, eyes wide. “Of course not! _Oh_ \- are _you_ busy?”

“No, not _at_ _all_.”

“Great! Then I could _really_ use your help- it’s for the work Christmas Party.”

“Oh really. Transporting that sounds fun.”

Her smile turns a little plastic. She hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“Enjoy that,” he murmurs with a smirk, and retreats back into his apartment to retrieve his keys and phone. Darcy tries not to think about how disorganised her place is compared to Loki’s when he returns and she leads him inside (Loki’s apartment borders a thin line between messy and immaculate- every surface gleaming and clean, yet covered with enough things to make it look lived in). Loki, thankfully (and uncharacteristically) makes no comment.

She sits him down at the table, where she’s already set up bags of frosting, the slabs of gingerbread and various sweets for decoration.

“So, is there a plan for this?” he asks as he sits down. “Or are do you just want to do whatever you please?”

She pulls a series of designs out of her recipe book on the kitchen counter. “It needs to look like this.”

Loki plucks the paper out of her hand. He’s still smirking. “You sure you manage this? It’s quite ornate.”

“I have steady hands,” she tells him coolly. “My concern is that _you_ won’t be able to manage it. For a man that dresses so immaculately, you don’t seem to care terribly about how your cooking looks by the end of it.” It’s true. Loki’s baking- whilst delicious- generally lacks in presentation.

Loki picks up an icing bag and pulls a sheet of gingerbread towards him. He pipes out a careful imitation of the window design from the picture, just to disprove her. Darcy hums as she watches him, and the look he sends her is just _daring_ her to say something about it. The design is slightly wonky, but not enough to warrant commenting on.

“Not bad,” she manages, and sits down herself. The corner of his lips twitch minutely.

“I don’t usually bother because it’s pointless,” he says quietly, some five minutes into their work. Darcy looks up, startled; it’s probably the most sincere she’s heard him ever since he moved in. “My mother taught me how to cook- she always said it was the taste that would win people over.”

Darcy bites her lip and watches silently as Loki intently pipes the designs she wants onto the biscuit (if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was avoiding her gaze). A thought worms itself into her head; had the gingernut cookies simply been a gesture of thanks? She swallows nervously and tucks her feet under her chair, suddenly feeling guilty for her behaviour in the past couple of months.

“I like the decorating,” she confesses eventually. _A truth for a truth_. Loki steals a candy. “My nana was a baker. She always made the most beautiful treats. Should have seen her- it was almost effortless, the way she could make something so beautiful, even with arthritis and the shakes.  I always wanted to get as good as she was.”

Loki carefully draws out a series of snowflakes on his slab and they continue to work together in silence, the usual testy needling absent.

“Jane and I are going to be out of town after New Years for a few weeks,” she says when she finishes her slab. Loki is almost finished his own. “Would it be possible for you or Thor to take care of the plants while we’re gone?”

Loki puts down his half-empty bag of icing, “You two are always jetting off somewhere.”

She tilts her head in agreeance. “Jane’s work requires a lot of field trips.”

“What is it exactly that she studies?”

“She’s an astrophysicist. Don’t ask me what it is exactly she’s researching- I think it’s got something to do with wormholes.” Loki raises a disbelieving brow, and she cuts him off before he can say anything, “I’m only her research assistant. Astrophysics isn’t really my specialty.’

“Then why do you work with her?”

“… It’s a long story.”

He snorts quietly. “Aren’t they always.”

She nods. “What- What do you do?” she asks him, feeling almost shy. “You always seem to be around- don’t seem to leave the house much.”

Though small and self-depreciating, the smile he sends her is the first genuine she’s ever seen, and the sight damn near takes her breath away. “I’m a writer. Fantasy, mostly.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh- uh- wow.” _That is not the answer she was expecting._

He scratches at the back of his neck, eyes glancing off to the side. “It pays the bills.”

“No- um. That’s cool. My dad’s a journalist- or he was. He retired last year.”

He nods, and makes one last flourish on the gingerbread slab. He sits back in the chair, rolling his shoulders and exposing the long line of his throat as he stretches. Darcy’s mouth goes dry at the sight.

“We’ll take care of them.”

She starts, surprised. “Uh- what?”

He sits up straight, giving her an expectant look. “You plants? Thor and I will keep them alive whilst you’re away.”

“Oh! Right. Thank-you.” She smiles at him, and passes over another slab of gingerbread. He nods in thanks and takes it from her with a long fingered hand.

“How long will you be away for?”

“Just under a month. We’re renting a motorhome.”

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “That sounds…”

“Awful. It sounds awful, I know. But it’s not like Jane and I don’t live out of each other’s pockets already.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgement. “True. You could despise each other.”

Darcy wonders if he’s talking out of experience; if the acerbic exchanges are anything to go by, he and Thor don’t exactly have the best of relationships. She stares down at the table and the spread of gingerbread house decorations, guilt churning in her gut. She wonders how many friends Loki has. He’s not the kind of guy who’s easy to approach or befriend. She wonders if he gets lonely. Maybe Thor’s excuse about him going through a lot at the moment was legit.

“Darcy.”

She looks up. Loki is staring at her intently, expression unreadable. She licks her lip, mouth dry all over again. Her heart feels unsteady in her chest. “Yeah?”

His eyes flick down at his hands and then back up to her. He looks like he’s battling himself, struggling to say something. She tilts her head at him expectantly and he clears his throat. “There’s a new bakery opening down on fifth… I was wondering if you’d be inclined to check it out with me?”

Her mouth is open. She knows it is.

Is he… is Loki asking her out on a _date?_

Loki purses his lips and stares down at his gingerbread when the silence grows too large. “Of course,” he grits out, a barest hint of a blush on his cheeks, “if you’d rather continue with this absurd and **unnecessary** baking competition we’ve got going on, then I’d-”

“No!” she clears her throat, feeling hot under the collar of her Christmas sweater. “No that’s- I mean.” She makes a soft sound of annoyance at the back of her throat. She sounds like one of those ridiculous women from the rom-coms Jane likes. “You surprised me. I’d love to.”

The smile on Loki’s face- that little and understated thing- is worth the fumbling. “I can guarantee dry wit and subtle bitching about lacklustre customer service and icing to pastry ratios.”

She laughs. “I think that sounds pretty good.”

His little smile grows a little wider. “Good,” he says softly and he turns back to his work. She smiles back at him in return.

(She’s still smiling when he’s gone, and Jane returns to accuse her of fucking him on their table.)

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget you can always check me out on [tumblr](http://cinnaatheart.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
